I had a bit of an idea. I will admit it's rather dry, but I hope it's not entirely tedious. I will not be finishing this storyline with other Acts etc but I might do some more drabbles in a play format for different storylines.
ACT ONE
SETTING: A classical piano melody is heard in the background, faintly. Every now and again, it ends on a dissonant chord before continuing to tell a story of conflict and distance.
Outside, the London streets are calm. The year is 1946.
The house inside is dark and warm but not comfortable. A fireplace in the corner of the room has been left to burn for too long so now only bright embers remain behind the grate. On one side of the room, a large bookshelf looms where it is slightly too big for the provided space. All of the titles have been carefully organized by authour and genre, though most are classic tragedies and romance novels.
The floors are a dark mahogany, clearly expensive and newly shined. The pristine state of the place implies that there is a maid that frequents the house. Although it is set up with a low table, chairs, and a sofa, there are no photographs or personal belongings to show the identities of the people that live there
From the left, a young man enters in a suit, his pale blond hair smoothed back neatly. He has charming and pleasing features when he is not scowling or smirking and a slight mark on the bridge of his nose where his glasses were resting just a moment before. Now, the rectangular lenses are hanging from the pocket of his suit jacket. There is an air of confidence as he walks and it is made obvious that he owns the house. After checking the time, he sets down a briefcase on a side table near the door.
A young woman arises from the sofa, her features perpetually in a state of worry, though it is merely because of her situation. She has a young visage, with intelligent blue eyes and honey blonde hair in a braid over her shoulder. Dressed as a housewife, she looks uncomfortable in her dress – it is a simply burgundy one – as if she would much rather be dressed in trousers and a shirt. Despite that, she is feminine and slight, her fingers twisting slightly in her dress as she watches the man sort himself upon entering the room.
STEPHANIE: She attempts to stop fidgeting with her dress as if she is afraid to be reprimanded. You're home late. Was work alright?
COLE: He is clearly annoyed but does his best to conceal it, raising his chin and looking back at her. Of course work was fine. The company is doing better than ever.
STEPHANIE: I wasn't asking about the company. She sighs audibly. You've been coming home later.
COLE: With mild distaste. Oh?
STEPHANIE: And…I had begun to think that you were starting to avoid this place.
COLE: So what if I am? Perhaps I've found someone better to spend my time with.
STEPHANIE: She frowns, slightly hurt. She has trouble hiding her expression. Now you're trying to be cruel.
COLE: Forgive me. Have I offended your delicate English standards? His tone is mocking now and a smug look overtakes his expression. Don't think I want to be here, love.
STEPHANIE: Her voice rises nervously. You…you asked me to marry you. Surely you do not detest me and our situation this much.
COLE: Oh, but who wouldn't want to get into the Tide name? You didn't have to say yes.
STEPHANIE: You know very well that I had no choice. She turns away, staring at the bookshelf. The piano in the background slows down slightly, though it grows increasingly dissonant. You act as if you've only come to take advantage of my situation. I feel-
COLE: He cuts her off with a short laugh. All you do, Stephanie, is feel. Besides, with your brother dead, it places me the heir of your parent's wealth. I am a smart businessman. I'm merely making the smart choice.
They stand in silence for a long, awkward moment. The embers in the fireplace start to dim and Steff instead busies herself with putting wood it in and relighting it with a match. Her fingers stumble over the matches a few times as she struggles to light it.
STEPHANIE: You have enough money on your own. There's no reason for you to need this…this…business deal, if that's what you're calling it.
COLE: Perhaps not. He takes a few steps into the room so he is in the middle, watching her light the fire. But I've never settled for mediocrity. I don't keep you locked in here. You could go out and enjoy the world if you wanted.
STEPHANIE: Those are rights. Not privileges. And I'd much rather work on making this…civil if we're to be family.
COLE: Family? He arches an eyebrow. Who ever said we were family?
STEPHANIE: Her uncertainty is tangible. Well, that's what marriage is.
COLE: Do you always do things by the book?
STEPHANIE: She sighs again, standing up and brushing her dress off. For a moment, her fingers fiddle with her braid before she starts to the door slowly. My parents sent a letter, by the way. They want us to come and have dinner with them tomorrow. We can't refuse.
COLE: And we won't. His eyes follow her. You ought to be on your best behaviour, then.
STEPHANIE: With great offense. I'm not your dog. She pauses and then immediately looks guilty at her outburst. …You should sleep soon. You've had a long week.
COLE: Slightly, he softens as if he's tired of arguing and instead looks out of the window. I have things to do.
Steff knows better than to answer, walking away to enter a bedroom. Cole exits to the right. The other lights on the stage dim and the set around her is changed so a simple screen, dresser, bed and side table are the only furnishings in the room. A few romance novels lie on the side table and the curtain is drawn open to give the room a dreamy feel. Stars are visible past the window, but everything is dark.
As Steff enters the room, she moves to switch on a small lamp by the bed, which illuminates the bed area. She sits down on it and puts her head in her hands. The music, at this point, goes out completely as she contemplates. After, she raises her head and moves to undo her braid.
It is clear she sleeps alone.
STEPHANIE: To herself, regretfully. I don't understand how I didn't see it earlier. He didn't seem like my parents. She brushes her fingers through her hair and then picks up a book. After a moment, she holds it to her chest. Have I really been this blind?
With another sigh, she stands up and looks frustrated with her self-pitying statements. Her bad posture is clear as she was careful in Cole's presence, but now she keeps her head tilted at the floor. Picking up a few items of clothing from the bed, she disappears behind a screen to change.
In the midst of her changing, a rotary telephone on the dresser rings and Steff makes a small sound of surprise. The lamp in the room only makes it clear that, behind the screen, she is quickly pulling a robe over her nightdress as she hurries. After she is fully redressed, she exits from behind the screen and picks up the phone to answer. She is hesitant at first, but then smiles as she realizes who it is.
STEPHANIE: With genuine curiosity. Ember, how are you?
A small spot on the right of the stage is lit so the audience can only see another young brunette woman standing next to a table with a phone. She is plainly dressed and has kind features.
EMBER: I'm well. My father returned back safely from his post in Germany, so I suppose that's something to delight in.
STEPHANIE: Oh, I'm glad to hear that. She smiles again, quickly forgetting about her own misfortune. I know being a general can be rather dangerous.
EMBER: With reassurance. Oh, it's all over now. What have you been up to? I wanted to check on you.
STEPHANIE: It should be obvious that she is debating about what to say. She draws out a pause. It's…alright.
EMBER: Alright? Looking unconvinced, she tilts her head. What does that entail?
STEPHANIE: Well… She frowns and looks over to make sure the door is shut so she is unheard. She lowers her voice. It's just not what I expected marriage would be like.
EMBER: I know your parents coerced you into doing it, but surely it isn't that bad. He seemed nice.
STEPHANIE: He did seem so. A faint violin is heard, stringing out long notes. I think he seemed many things, though.
EMBER: Steff. Her voice grows careful. What is it like there? Are you sure everything is alright?
STEPHANIE: She bites her lip and brushes some hair nervously behind her ear. I'm not entirely sure, if I'm honest. I don't feel married, at least I am sure this is not what marriage is supposed to feel like.
EMBER: Her words are hesitant. He hasn't hurt you…has he?
STEPHANIE: No, not like that. He's never raised a hand against me or… She cuts herself off, conflicted. I don't want to speak poorly of him…But…
EMBER: Encouragingly. But?
STEPHANIE: He avoids me, Ember. I'm sure of it. I knew he wasn't the affectionate or warm type, but he's not easy to get along with. She stutters on a few of her words nervously. I'm trying to at least be friends, but I am not sure he even wants that. It isn't like the books at all.
EMBER: I see. She does not know what to say, as she is happily married. Have you tried bringing this up to him?
STEPHANIE: Oh, and what will he tell me? He'll say I'm foolish. She shakes her head and bids herself to stop her negative comments, though it has been a while since she has said what is on her mind. I do not think he likes me.
EMBER: With caution. Do you think…
STEPHANIE: She waits expectantly. Do…do I think what?
EMBER: Her words grow slower. Do you think he…fancies…women? Or…
STEPHANIE: Although a little surprised by her suggestion, she manages to compose herself and answer. I don't think he fancies anyone, if I'm honest. I don't think I've seen him express much interest in anything but…money and things like that.
EMBER: Perhaps it needs more time. I don't see how he can't like you.
STEPHANIE: Oh, you're just saying that.
EMBER: I mean it, though. I'm sure things will get better.
STEPHANIE: She pauses. Perhaps. Anyway, I should let you go. I was about to be off to bed.
EMBER: Oh, I apologize I caught you at a late time, but please call me sometime. I worry.
STEPHANIE: There's no need to worry. I can…I can sort things out. Goodnight.
EMBER: Goodnight, Steff. She hangs up and the spotlight on her goes out so all the attention is on Steff in her room.
Slowly, Steff puts the phone down. The violin grows slightly louder as she takes a step back and looks longingly at the phone. Her gaze is distracted by the window for a few moments before she decides to crawl into her bed and slip under the sheets. She reaches to the side to place a book in her lap as if it gives her comfort. Her expression falls into deep contemplation.
She lies there, propped up for a long while as the violin continues to play. Then, she flicks the switch to the lamp and the light goes off. The stage is black and the violin draws one last note before fading away as well.